loo-lee-ta:  the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth.  p. 9

dim eyes, bright lips  p. 20

a very narrow interval between two tiger heartbeats  p. 111

as happens with me at periods of electrical disturbance and crepitating lightnings, i had hallucinations.  p. 217

nobody attempted to get in between our humble blue car and its imperious red shadow-as if there were some spell cast on that interspace, a zone of evil mirth and magic, a zone whose very precision and stability had a glass-like virtue that was almost artistic.  (seemed to move because an invisible rope of silent silk connected it) {2 cars}  p. 219

her tennis was the highest point to which i can imagine a young creature bringing the art of make-believe, although i daresay, for her it was the very geometry of basic reality.  p. 231

there was nothing wrong or deceitful in the spirit of her game-unless one considered her cheerful indifference toward its outcome as the feint of a nymphet.  p. 232

i am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art.  and this is the only immortality that you and i may share, my lolita.  p. 309

some ole nabokov lyrics i love